Raymond had a habit of crossing lines with Donald. Fortunately, it was mostly just with jokes. Sometimes, it was more than that. Like when he nearly got killed by one of Lorca's men. It made Donald hate him even more when he had looked over to see Raymond with that stupid grin on his face.
He had to admit though, Raymond had his moments. He had saved his life. Hell, he even brought the love of his life back. It wasn't Raymond's fault that not long after that, Audrey had been killed.
That was when he had been most confused about Raymond. He had tried to give Donald advice and had even given him what could faintly be considered comfort. Then, Donald had made a comment about Tanida's head in a box. What showed up? A head in a fucking box!
That wasn't all. When he went to confront Reddington about it, the smug bastard was waiting for him. Dembe led him into a room to see Raymond sitting with a small smile on his face and a glass of wine in his hand. The wine had been offered to him.
As he took the drink, he searched Raymond's face. He expected to see some gloating glint in his eyes but only saw a look of sympathy. He took the glass and sat down next to the criminal.
He and Raymond drank in silence. Neither looked at the other. The silence was surprisingly comfortable. Then, Donald felt strange. His breath shortened, and he couldn't keep himself up right.
Donald's vision blurred as his eyelids felt heavy. He slumped over on the other man's shoulder. He felt Raymond's hand rub small circles on his back gently. This had been planned, and Donald knew it. Why it had been planned, he didn't know.
"Y-You drugged me." Donald said as he struggled to stay awake. So, is this how he would die, with Reddington drugging him and acting as though he was trying to make him feel better?
"You need the sleep." Raymond stated in an unusual soft voice. Donald's eyelids plunged downward. He tried to jump up but only ended up flinching. He saw Audrey when his eyes closed and wasn't ready for that.
"Audrey," Donald said meekly but Raymond understood as the younger man's head slid down to rest on Raymond's slightly bulged belly. Donald's head rose and fell with Raymond's breathing. This didn't seem right. Regardless, Donald felt how soft and smelled the cologne of Raymond's clothes. Ressler felt the criminal's hand move from his back to stroke his hair.
"You won't dream of her, not tonight." Red said in a reassuring tone. Why was he doing this and why did he have to have his fingers in Donald's hair?
Raymond felt Donald grow limp. He was still awake but was calm. The fingers in his hair were soothing. He cursed himself for not expecting his drink to be spiked. He cursed himself for letting himself be lulled by a criminal.
"He's going to be pissed when he wakes up." He heard Dembe say. They thought he was asleep. He stayed still. Well, he couldn't have moved if he hadn't to, but that was beside the point.
"I know." Raymond stated. "But when I was in his position, I would have loved for someone to have drugged me." He added. Then, everything went black.
Donald awoke in someone else's bed. He felt like he'd been bashed in the head. In stories you always read that people don't remember right away what happen before they're drugged. Donald wished that were true. Instead, he remembered ever detail right down to the smell of Reddington's jacket and the calming effect the man had on him.
After a few minutes, he decided he had better get up. He sat up and rubbed his aching head. He looked over at the chair next to him and black fabric.
He stared for a full minute before he realized that the fabric was his jacket and pants. Donald's eyes widened before he looked under the covers. He'd been left with nothing but his boxers and undershirt. That bastard had been one layer of fabric from seeing him naked, from making him naked. The thought made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Donald dressed and walked out of the room. It was quiet. If it weren't for the faint sound coming from what he guessed was the kitchen, he would have thought he had been abandoned. The smell of a frying egg hit him and made his stomach clench.
"What food does someone eat after they've been drugged?" Raymond asked. Donald looked in the kitchen to see Dembe cooking while Raymond read the newspaper. Neither of them had seen him.
"If I were him, I wouldn't trust you enough to eat anything you offered." Dembe replied as he flipped the egg. Raymond gave a belly laugh and grinned broadly. He still had the paper in front of his face and couldn't see Donald.
"Right you are, but it would still be rude not to offer. If we weren't going to offer him breakfast, we might as well have roofied him."
"What the hell did you give me?" Donald asked. The two looked over to him as if they had forgotten he was even in the house. He must have looked horrible because they stared at him long enough for the egg to cook on the other side.
"Donald, you look as though you slept well." Raymond finally stated. "Come have a seat. What would you like for breakfast?" He asked. Donald sat across from Red and watched him blearily.
"Which one of you undressed me?" Donald questioned just now realizing how husky his voice sounded.
"We've got eggs. You could have toast or cereal."
"Who undressed me?"
"I'm sure we could talk Dembe into cooking some muffins. Oh, you should really try them! They're absolutely delici-,"
"RED!" Donald nearly yelled. Red's grin faded.
"If it makes you feel any better, it was a team effort." Red stated as he lifted his newspaper back up. Oh yeah, because having two men undress him instead of one made him feel great. Fuck you, Reddington!
Donald sat back in the kitchen chair. His stomach gurgled causing him to give a noise of discomfort. Raymond glanced at him.
"Dembe, be a dear and making him some toast. It'll help settle his stomach." Red stated. Dembe gave a quick nod before putting two pieces of bread in the toaster.
Dembe slid the egg from the frying pan onto a plate. He sat it down in front of Reddington who folded and laid his newspaper aside. Donald glanced at the plate. It had two eggs, toast, sausage, and what he guessed was grits all laid out neatly. If he ate like this at every meal, it was no wonder the man had a bit of a spare tire under his shirt.
Dembe brought Donald his toast before going back to the oven to make his own breakfast. Donald had barely even had time to issue a brief thanks before the man was turned away from him. He picked up the bread and nibbled at it. What could happen? Would they drug him again?
"Feel any better, Donald?" Red asked asked he tucked the napkin into the collar of his shirt. "Because you look like hell," he added as he picked up his silverware.
"I'm fine." He answered and the criminal gave a small nod. He took a bite of the eggs and didn't look at the younger man again. He knew Donald needed time to heal and wasn't going to intrude.
Red and Donald slowly but surely finished their meals. Raymond took both of their plates to the sink and clapped Dembe on the back. The larger man glanced at him.
"Another fine meal." Red said as if announcing it. Donald couldn't help but glance at Red's belly and mental scoff an 'I bet'. He saw Red lean in closer to Dembe and whisper something. Dembe nodded before Red grabbed his newspaper and headed out of the room.
"Mr. Reddington wishes for me to tell you that you are permited to stay here for a few days." Dembe stated.
"He was just here. Couldn't he have told me himself?" Donald asked. Without answering, Dembe turned from him. Donald was getting tired of people avoiding him when he asked something. He wasn't going to press his luck with Dembe, but maybe he could get something out of Red. He was the one who was offering him a place... What the hell was he playing at?
Donald exited the kitchen and went into the living room. He saw Raymond sitting comfortably in an old chair with the newspaper opened in front of him. He never bothered to look up but knew that Ressler was there.
"So, how long will you be staying, Donald?" Reddington asked. He knew the answer that was coming. He still had to ask to make things go smoothly.
"I won't be," Ressler answered.
"We'll see," Reddington muttered and flipped the page. Donald didn't say anything before he left. He went to the black-site. Reddington joined them later on. The day was extraordinarily uneventful. Reddington kept trying to pull him into small talk but was unsuccessful.
It seemed like an eternity before the day ended. Donald went to his car. He noticed the black car behind him that he knew Dembe was driving. He didn't get in like Red had planned. Instead, he drove to his apartment building. He sat in his car and watched the rain fall.
He hated to admit that he couldn't go in. He'd never be able to go inside without Audrey haunting him. He waited an hour before he finally decided what to do.
Reddington heard the knock on the door and saw Dembe nod. Red opened the door and gave Donald a perplexed look. Ressler was soaked to the bone and shivering. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and the only thing colder than him was his gaze.
"Donald, I'm sorry to tell you this but the offer no longer stands." Red stated. Ressler didn't argue. He just turned to walk away. Red grabbed Donald's arm. Ressler turned back to see Red shake his head. Red felt just how chilled the man really was. Had he stood out there trying to think of an excuse to leave? He wouldn't have doubted it.
"I'm only joking." Red said and Donald entered. Dembe came back with a towel and handed it to Ressler. He took it and tried to avoid Raymond's gaze. "Do you need anything?"
Donald shook his head. Red nodded and patted him on the back. Donald tried to ignore the fact that his hand seemed to linger after the last pat. This visit may prove to be very...interesting.